


thinly veiled

by fhirmament



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhirmament/pseuds/fhirmament
Summary: Sylvain endeavours to learn more about what haunts his prince, but has an ulterior motive.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	thinly veiled

The stone corridors of Garreg Mach always smelled slightly damp just after a rainfall. Such it was as Sylvain wandered toward the knight's hall, hoping that he would be able to find some privacy. He knew it was unlikely, ever since the crown prince's change of heart after Gronder, he and Dedue had been inseparable, but he couldn't help but hope.

The difference in temperature between the outside and interior of the stone archway was significant, due in part to the huge, roaring fire that always seemed to be ablaze in the hall, though Sylvain had never seen anyone stoke it.  
Much to his surprise, Dimitri was sat in front of the fire, looking quite lonely as he poured over reports and strategies in preparation to march on Fhirdiad. The prince didn't look up when Sylvain entered, or maybe he did - between his shaggy hair and his eyepatch, so much of his face was obscured nowadays. Sylvain cleared his throat.

"Hey, Your Highness."

Dimitri went still for a moment before lifting his head. He had to brush a good amount of hair from his face before Sylvain could even see his eye. A small, almost apologetic smile turned up the corners of the prince's mouth. "Ah, Sylvain," He put down what looked to be a layout of the Kingdom's capital, "The hour is quite late. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I had something to ask you." He leaned against the wall beside the fire where the warmth made half of his face come up flushed. Dimitri's remaining eye was such an icy blue in contrast to the warm colours dancing about the hall, it was impossible not to meet his gaze. "Though I'll be the first to admit it's kinda unorthodox."

Dimitri nodded encouragingly. "Yes, of course. You know I will share anything with you, Sylvain."

Not one to fumble about with words when he could help it, Sylvain crossed his legs languidly and murmured, only just audible over the crackling of the fire. "I want you to tell me about the ghosts."

What little colour there was drained from the prince's cheeks. Instinctively, he pulled his mantle up tighter around his shoulders and defensively folded his arms. Sylvain watched the whole display with mild regret. He didn't want to make Dimitri so uncomfortable, but he premised it was a necessity.

When the prince spoke, his voice was quiet, his tone gruff, a raspiness similar to how he'd sounded when they first found him all those months ago. "Whoever said a thing about those?"

"You did. Offhandedly, at least. And your reaction alone is telling. Don't worry, Your Highness, I'm not here to tease, I'm just worried." Sylvain watched a breadth of emotions pass over Dimitri's face. Anger, resentment, fear, shame, and finally resignation. He knew he'd get his answers now.

The prince's arms dropped from his chest as he laid his hands meekly in his lap. "My apologies. I should not have taken that tone, it is a valid question." He looked over his shoulder and sighed. "But perhaps here is not the place. Will you join me to my quarters?"

Sylvain almost laughed at the formality, as if they hadn't been room neighbours the entire time they'd boarded at the monestary. Still, he accepted the invitation and headed back out into the dark night with his prince.

Away from the warm light of the knight's hall, Dimitri looked so much more weathered and tired. His eye sunken and his cheeks hollowed, he walked with the gait of a man far older than his years; Sylvain supposed it would take a long time for the prince to truly recover from five years spent in the wilderness and the slums, if there was a chance he would recover at all.

Dimitri shut the door to his room behind them and took a seat, the wooden chair creaking under the weight of all that armour. "So," He sighed as Sylvain sat on his bed, "what is it you wished to know?"

Sylvain steepled his fingers and kept his voice low. He knew if there was any chance Felix could hear them, he'd be scolded for encouraging the prince's delusions. "Everything. How many are there? When did they first show up?"

Dimitri shuffled in his seat, the whole topic making him visibly uncomfortable. "There are... many. I have not troubled myself to count. Some are people I've known all my life, some I saw just for a moment on the battlefield before I..." He swallowed. "Murdered them. But their faces, their twisted expressions, are burned into my head. I first saw my father... two nights after I was brought home from Duscur. I hadn't been able to sleep, and when I finally did succumb..."

He trailed off, eyes falling to the floor. Sylvain could tell from the movement of his lips that he was chewing his cheek, as if embarrassed of the visions that tormented him every moment of the day.

"I see," He held out a hand to Dimitri, not quite touching in case it startled him. The prince took his hand, though his regular uncontrollably strong grip seemed pitifully weak. "Thanks for opening up, Your Highness."

Dimitri laughed hollowly and glanced up at the redhead. "We are alone in my chambers, you need not use such formal words."

"That's rich, coming from you." Sylvain managed one of his token grins, not letting go of the prince's hand. "But I'm being serious for once. I'm glad you told me. Is there anything else...?"

The smile faded from Dimitri's face and he returned to somberness. He slowly released Sylvain's hand and gazed toward the window, his voice quiet as if not wanting to be overheard by other occupants in the empty room.

"They do not say much. Not while I am awake. But the stares... they speak more than their mouths." He let out a deep breath and shook his head. "If I am being honest, I do not think they will ever leave me. No matter what I do. These phantoms... father, step-mother, Glenn, Rodrigue, everyone, they are my burden to shoulder; every look of shame and whispered word of doubt. They will always be here." Dimitri looked back from the window and looked to Sylvain. The blue of his eye was almost drowned out by his pupil, dilated from the low light of the room. "Sylvain... do you think me mad?"

For once, Sylvain didn't immediately know what to say. He thought for a long, lingering moment before committing himself to an answer. An empty chuckle escaped him and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he shook his head. "No, I don't." He retook the prince's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "In fact, maybe now you've told me, we can face them together? It must get awfully lonely inside that head of yours."

Dimitri managed another small smile and put his other hand on top of Sylvain's. "I think I would like that very much. Thank you, Sylvain. If you'll pardon my bluntness, I did not expect you to be the one questioning me about my, ah... delusions, I believe Felix called them."

The redhead shrugged and let his hand linger in Dimitri's for as long as he could without it feeling awkward, then flashed him another easy smile. "I'm hardly Felix, Your Highness." He got to his feet and stretched, easing up onto his tiptoes as he yawned. "Thanks again for telling me about it. But I gotta get going, contrary to popular belief I do need my beauty sleep."

The prince nodded slowly, looking a mite more serene than he did before, and saw Sylvain to the exit, murmuring low so he wouldn't wake anyone else in the building as he opened the door. "I do not know what possessed you to ask, but... I am glad that you did. Thank you, Sylvain. No matter your motives."

"Hey, it's no trouble at all... Dimitri." Sylvain winked and closed the door behind him as he left. The light of the prince's room, along with the warmth in his chest, disappeared as soon as the latch fell, and he let out a deep, long breath as he entered his own room.

It was laughable, really. Though he'd not grown an inch in five years, this bed felt too small for him now, and the room always seemed all dark and cold. Despite telling himself he wouldn't dwell on it, he found it hard not to feel melancholy whenever he set foot in his old chambers. Not bothering with the lights, he stripped down and crawled under the sheets to wait for dawn, every bone in his body suddenly feeling twice its age.

"So, did Prince Charming have any kind of radical insights for you, runt?"

Sylvain pulled the blankets up tighter around his shoulders and forced his eyes closed, grunting.

"Shut up, Miklan."


End file.
